“It’s not easy,” he admits. “Some days are better than others. I’ve learned that in order to be happy and not let those moments consume me, I’ve got to check them at the door.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“I acknowledge what I’m feeling. I internalize it and accept it, and if it’s a really bad day, I let myself ponder it, and I get rip-roaring drunk, and then I let it go. Because if I don’t, it’ll consume me, and that’s the last thing I want.”
“It’s consuming me, Trevor. And you were right, it was stupid of me to go back into that building. I knew better—my dad taught me better than that. My whole life I’ve worked hard to make him proud, and I failed that night, Trevor. I failed him.”
My nose burns. My chin quivers. I drop it to my chest to try to hide the tears.
Trevor pulls me into his arms and holds me. He doesn’t whisper words of encouragement or inspiration, he simply offers me comfort in his warm, strong embrace. I open the floodgates and let it all out. I cry harder than I’ve ever cried. I cry for the pain I still feel from the loss of my father. I cry for Mom and the years she’s had to live without the love of her life. I cry for Milo and Mo and Rhett and Cooper. I cry because Trevor has to deal with this sort of thing every single day. I cry for Tara and Troy and Marcus and all of the kids in the building that day. But most of all, I cry for myself. I cry because I need to, because I have to purge this pain from my system so I can find some form of normalcy again.
Minutes pass, maybe hours—who the hell knows—but eventually the sobs slow and my tears dry. I pull back, but I can’t look Trevor in the eye, because I’m afraid if I do I’ll break all over again, and damn it, I’m tired of breaking.
So very tired of breaking, and tired of feeling all this guilt and shame.
“Claire, look at me.” It’s a gentle command.
I shake my head, my hair dropping in front of my face.
With a finger under my chin, Trevor lifts my head, and when our eyes connect, it’s as though he’s opened himself up to me, and I can see into his soul. It’s as if the worst moment in my life, aside from my father’s death, has bonded us in a way I’ll never experience with another human being.
“Do you know what I saw that day when Mikey and I busted through the bathroom door?”
I shake my head, afraid to talk.
“You were hovering over those boys, protecting them, putting their needs above your own. You were strong and brave, and it’s because of you that they made it out of there that day. I was so damn proud of you, Claire, and I know your dad would be as well, and I’m sorry if I let you believe otherwise.”
A tear slips down my face. Trevor frames my jaw with his hands. Using his thumb, he brushes the tear away.
“Can you imagine how scared Troy and Marcus would’ve been without you? They sure as hell wouldn’t have known to put a wet piece of cloth under the door to keep the smoke out, and what if they’d tried to run out of the building on their own? They could’ve gotten burned or killed by falling debris. I don’t care what you say. You will never convince me that you made the situation worse.”
His words soak into my soul, gripping it tight, forcing me to hear them, and I do. For the first time since the fire, I allow myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, I ultimately did the right thing. It’s overwhelming, and emotion bubbles up my throat. I let out an unladylike cry.
Trevor tucks me against his chest. “You’ve got to let it go, baby. You’ve got to move past this.”
I want to. God, how I want to. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Well, I do. I know you can, Claire, and I’m going to be here every step of the way. We’ll do it together, okay?”
Pinching my lips together—a poor attempt at not crying again—I nod.
“Good. That’s good. The first part of letting go is realizing that you’re okay. You’re alive and well and so are those boys, and the rest of the kids in your class.”
“And you.”
“And me.” With his arms still wrapped around me, Trevor leans back, and my heart flutters when he smiles. “We’re all okay. No one got killed or seriously injured. For now, I want you to focus on that. Focus on the lives that were saved instead of the what-ifs, because those what-ifs? They’ll eat you alive.”
“I’ve been what-if-ing myself to death.”
Trevor laughs. “I know you have, and it stops tonight.”
“Trevor?”
“Yeah?”
I lace my fingers with his, needing to feel his touch, hoping the warmth of his skin will continue to soothe me the way his words have. “Will you stay with me tonight? I’m tired of being alone.”
His eyes cloud over, darkening for a split second, and then he draws me closer into his arms. “Whatever you need, Red.”
“You. I just need you.”
21
Trevor
You. I just need you.
When she said I didn’t understand what she’s going through, I should’ve spilled my guts and told her about the part I played in her father’s death. If that experience alone doesn’t show her I know what she’s feeling, then I don’t know what will. But I couldn’t get the words out. She was already a complete mess, and I didn’t want to make things worse. And I can’t tell her now because now an entirely different set of words is rattling around in my head.
You. I just need you.
No one has ever said something like that to me with so much conviction and so much heart. In this moment, she’s not a victim holding on to her hero; she’s a friend holding on to a friend, a woman holding on to a man, and I believe her. No one has ever needed me like this, and it’s left me more than a little speechless.
I lean back on the couch and bring Claire with me. She burrows her face against my chest as I reach over and pull the afghan across our bodies.
Her tears soak through my shirt, but I don’t care. She can cry as much as she wants for as long as she needs, and I’ll stay right here, acting as her human Kleenex. Threading my fingers through her hair, I stroke the strands, letting them fall before repeating the process. Eventually, Claire’s cries soften, her breathing evens out, and when I look down and see her asleep on top of me, my heart flips over inside my chest.
I don’t know how long I sit and watch her sleep, but eventually I must pass out because when I wake up, the darkness has given way to the light of a new day. Bright sunlight filters through the blinds, and even though my back is killing me, I’ve never been more comfortable, and it’s because of the precious woman lying on me.
Sometime during the night, Claire must’ve moved. Her body is now cradled between my legs, her head resting in the crook of my neck, and the only thing that hasn’t changed are her arms. They’re still wrapped tight around my body as though she was afraid if she let go I’d disappear.
Not a chance in hell.
The afghan fell off the couch, but we didn’t need it because our bodies pressed together created more than enough heat to keep us warm. Claire rustles around in her sleep and accidentally knees me in the balls.
“Ooomph.” I jerk on instinct, and Claire’s head pops up.
She blinks heavily against the bright light. Her red hair is plastered to the side of her head, and I’ve never seen her look so beautiful.
“What’s wrong?” She rustles around, adjusting herself against me, and my dick decides to sit up and take notice.
“You kneed me in the junk. Again.”
“Oh my God,” she says, trying not to laugh.
She tries to lift herself up to look down, but I hold her in place—mostly because I’m not ready to let her go.
“That’s twice now,” I tell her. “I’m starting to think you have it out for me.”
“I swear I don’t.”
“I could let you rub it and make it all better.” It’s probably wrong of me to flirt with her after everything she’s been through, but I can’t help myself. I don’t want to help myself. Not anymore.<
br />
“Oh, I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you?”
“A little too much, probably.”
She laughs and buries her face in my chest, and I decide it’s the best sound in the entire world. If I could, I would bottle it up and save it.
Eventually, she looks up. A shy smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. “Good morning.”
“It’s always a good morning when I wake up with a beautiful woman sprawled out across my chest.”
Her smile widens, and I lied. This, right here. The way she looked moments ago doesn’t hold a candle to how perfect she looks right now. Her eyes look lighter than they did last night, as if clouds have finally parted to make way for the sun.
“You shouldn’t say those things to me.”
“Why not?” I say, brushing the hair from the side of her cheek. “It’s the truth.”
“Because it makes me happy.”
I draw in a slow breath, choosing my words wisely, because this might be the loophole—the brief moment in time when I have the opportunity to get us back on the right track. And by the right track I mean on the track of getting together.
If there’s one thing I learned by staying with Claire last night, it’s that waking up with her in my arms is the best damn feeling in the entire world, and I’m ready for it.
I’m ready to have this day in and day out.
And I want it with Claire.
I see now that letting her walk away that night in the bathroom at Animal Haven was a colossal mistake, one I refuse to make again. That doesn’t mean things will be easy, or that they’ll even work at all—I still have a massive secret that could rock us to our core—but I’m finally willing to take that chance if it means a shot at a future with Claire.
But first, I need to take things slow and figure out if she’s ready to toss her rules aside for someone like me—for a firefighter and a rancher and a reformed player.
“Maybe I like making you happy.”
She smiles, but as she watches me, that smile fades.
“What is it?” I ask, brushing my thumb along the apple of her cheek.
“I just don’t know where we stand,” she says, her eyes dropping to my chest before meeting mine again. “That night in the bathroom was…”
“Was what, Claire?”
“Perfect,” she sighs. “And I know we agreed to walk away, and I know that us being together goes against my rules, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you—about that kiss and the way your hands felt on my body. I finally decided to toss my rules out the window, but then the fire happened, and in the hospital room you seemed so angry at me. I just spiraled out of control after that and—”
I don’t know what else to do to get her to stop rambling, so I kiss her.
Claire’s eyes widen, but I coax her into submission with my lips, and within seconds her body is melting against mine.
“I wasn’t angry, Claire, far from it,” I whisper against her lips.
“Then what were you?”
“Scared, frustrated, sad, you name it. I’ll never be able to tell you what it was like for me when I heard you were in that fire. I was trying desperately to keep my emotions in check, because I knew I had to get you out of there. I was frustrated that you put your life in danger by running back in, but I got it. I got it, Claire. I understood why you did it. Doesn’t mean I liked it, because I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you that day. I was scared—scared of the feelings I had for you, scared that you didn’t feel the same way. And then I freaked out because I have a rule that I don’t date victims, and suddenly you were a victim. That frustrated the hell out of me, and I lashed out.”
She grins. “Us and our damn rules.”
“I hate our rules.”
“Me too. And I don’t want to be your victim, Trevor, any more than you want to be my test dummy.”
I smile. “You’re not my victim. Far from it. I’m just sorry it took so long for us to get to this point. I shouldn’t have kept you at arm’s length for so many years, and I should’ve told you sooner that I think you’re amazing and I want a chance to be with you. I’m sorry I got angry with you in the hospital. I didn’t know how else to process everything. Lashing out at you was easier than facing all those emotions, and honestly, I wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear everything I have to say.”
“I probably wasn’t. But I am now.”
“I know, sweetheart, and we’re going to talk about it, I promise. But it’s going to have to wait because I’ve got to work today. Speaking of which, what time is it?”
Claire reaches for her phone on the coffee table. “Six o’clock.”
“Shit.” As much as I hate to do it, I extricate myself from under Claire. “I’ve got to be at work in an hour, and I’ve still got to go home and shower.”
“Sorry, I should’ve set an alarm.”
“It’s not your fault. We both got sucked up in our conversation last night. Speaking of which, how are you feeling this morning?”
She shrugs. “Lighter.”
“That’s a start. The feelings are still there, I’m sure. It’ll take time to move on, but you’ll get there, and I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”
“Thank you for talking to me and staying with me. I really appreciate it.”
Resting my hand on hers, I squeeze. “Anytime, Claire. I’m always here for you.”
Claire looks at my hand on top of hers. “I slept better last night than I have in weeks.”
“Me too.”
“You know, you could always come back tonight, if you wanted.”
Oh shit. This woman is going to be the death of me. “I can’t. I’m on for a forty-eight-hour shift.”
“Right,” she sighs. “I forgot you work those crazy hours.”
“But we’ll talk soon, okay?”
She nods. I squeeze her hand one last time and stand up. Making sure my wallet is still tucked in my back pocket, pick up my hat, which somehow ended up on the floor, put it on, and grab my keys. My hand hits the knob, and Claire’s voice stops me.
“Trevor?”
I turn around. Claire walks toward me. Her clothes are a wrinkly mess, her bare feet sticking out from her jeans, and I wonder when she ditched her socks. She stops in front of me and looks up. Sliding her hands up my chest, she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me down for another kiss, and this time I let her take the lead.
She angles my face over hers in a way that pulls me in deep, and when she moans, I snap and drag her against me. We fall against the door as Claire practically climbs my body. We’re a mess of arms and hands and tongues, and I’ll be damned if she didn’t just make leaving that much harder.
We’re panting and breathless when she breaks the kiss. Her eyes are glossy. I’m sure mine are the same.
“I don’t care what excuses you come up with over the next few days,” she says. “You’ll never convince me we shouldn’t give this a try. Life is short. There’s only one thing more precious than our time, and that’s who we spend it with. And I’d really like to spend my time with you.”
“Claire.”
I can’t believe I have to go to work when all I want to do is drag her back to her room and make sweet, sweet love to her. I want to worship her body and promise all of the shit I swore I’d never promise a woman.
Since that isn’t an option, I tug her in for another kiss.
When I pull back, we’re both panting for air.
With a coy smile, she reaches around me and pushes the front door open. “Don’t want you to be late for work. Just wanted to give you something to think about while you’re there.”
You did a damn good job of that, sweetheart. Now I’m wondering how the hell I can tell her my secrets and keep her at the same time.
“This conversation isn’t over,” I say.
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
22
Claire
“Mom, I’ve go
t to call you back, someone’s at the door.”
“Okay, sweetie, I’ll talk to you later.”
I disconnect the call, push my phone into my back pocket, and pull open the front door.
“Here.” Mo shoves a tan ball of fur at me. “I can’t take it anymore.”
I take Milo before she falls to the floor. Her glassy eyes look up, and when she catches a whiff of me, her tongue darts out, swiping my upper lip.
“Gross,” I say, pushing her nose away. “I don’t know where that mouth has been.” But Milo doesn’t care, she keeps licking anything and everything she can get her slobbery little tongue on.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t take her back. That dog is a hot mess,” Mo says, holding her hands up.
“She is not,” I say, stepping to the side so Mo can come in.
“All she’s done since you dropped her off is cry. I even swiped one of your T-shirts to put in her pen; it’s the only way I get her to eat or sleep.”
“Which T-shirt?”
“Your Bon Jovi one.”
“I’ve been looking for that. When did you take it?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “A week ago. Snagged it off your floor when you went to the bathroom, and I’m not sorry. She’s a mess, Claire. She misses you.”
I want to tell Mo it doesn’t matter, that she needs to take Milo back, but damn it, I miss Milo too. It’s been weeks, and I still find myself wanting to fill her food bowl every morning and take her on a walk every night, even though I always ended up carrying her. And as much as I hated the feel of her cold nose being shoved into my neck at the crack of dawn, I’ve missed that too.
“Fine. I’ll keep her.”
Mo’s eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yes.” I set Milo down, and she runs straight into the wall before turning around and heading in the opposite direction. “One of these days she’s going to learn not to just take off running.”
Crazy, Hot Love Page 12
